


Snowflakes

by abcd



Series: Black Butterfly [4]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Friendship, Christmas Story, Gen, Implied Past Child Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5593750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abcd/pseuds/abcd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Christmas crawls its way even into Narrows; snowflakes fall even to the dark alleys and the window panes of evil places. And then a small, tiny light can be lit even for a desperate boy…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowflakes

**Author's Note:**

> Once again a big thanks to my friend CompletelyBatty...
> 
> Happy New Year!

Once upon a time there was a little girl whose father had died and she was left with her cruel stepmother and sisters. They made her wear rags and work all day, sleeping afterhours exhausted accompanied and consoled by her kitten…

Or not? Bruce couldn’t be sure if the fairytale had a kitten or just he had Hero in his mind. Actually, he didn’t remember much about the fairytale after all these years living in _Dolcetto_ under Falcone’s and Chill’s “custody”. His life there didn’t permit any reversion to childhood’s beautiful lies.

Yet sometimes as now while mopping the store’s floor his stupid mind flew to old memories, pages of stories that smelled like mom and were hued by her melodic sweet voice and his daddy’s smile and tender stare.

_“Sorry, Ms. Wayne…” a snarky, smartass voice of a preteen trying to sound like an adult barged in. “But, c’me on!” black, sparkling, smug eyes rolled. “Cinderella isn’t for boys” he turned his teasing eyes to him and cocked an eyebrow “even when they are so small that look like kittens!” he chortled._

_And though Bruce knew that the older boy was saying this to tease him, he jumped and tackled Tony who laughed lighthearted._

_“Easy, tiger! You do look like a kitten although” he tilted his head on the right estimating “you got the eye of the tiger!”_

_Bruce was mock hitting his friend aware that his ‘punches’ were like tickles to the bigger boy. He wanted to look angry though he wasn’t – he could never get angry with Tony but he wanted to continue the game his Californian friend started because Tony loved seeing him pissed. However all these days his mood was grim…_

_“I’m a big boy not a kitten! And I like that story, Tony!”_

_Tony cackled._

_“Don’t tell me you’re a fan of Little Pony too?!” he cocked his eyebrows exasperated. “Honestly, little guy: Cinderella? This is for little girls!_ _You believe in fairytales?”_

_Bruce gritted his teeth and his lower lip trembled from anger; the bitter feeling of all these days flowing uncheced. He stood up and Tony frowned because he wanted to tease the younger boy and play with him but now he saw that his friend was unexpectedly distraught. His parents looked worried too: those ‘’quarrels” were so usual for the two boys and always led to good fun but now…_

_He clenched his small fists._

_“I don’t believe in fairytales” he snapped without looking at anyone “I may be ‘little’ as you say but I’m not stupid: I know that all these are lies as…Santa…”_

_Martha’s sharp inhale was audible and she exchanged an almost panicked look with Thomas: Bruce was only six years old – he should feel the magic. Even Tony seemed uncomfortable and scratched his nape._

_“Listen, little guy…” he began and Thomas cast him a strict glance afraid that Tony was going to affirm Bruce’s sayings._

_But Bruce didn’t want to listen to his buddy’s lecture._

_“I’m not a baby: I know he’s not real because I know that millions of poor kids out there wouldn’t get any present because their parents are poor and…and if Santa was real, he would go to these kids first, right?” he looked at his mother whose eyes were tearful and her lips pressed. “I mean, he’s supposed to love kids so he should make happy those kids too, right? But he doesn’t! So he’s a fairytale! To fool naïve kids…”_

_Tony sighed because he haven’t thought about poor kids in Christmas and Bruce’s trembling rosy lip made his heart clench too. The boy from Malibu watched Mr. Wayne walk slowly to his little son, squat and hold his shoulders. Bruce stared at him._

_“You saw Santa giving presents to the poor kids of Gotham during our party” he said softly to console his son._

_But Tony rolled his eyes; he didn’t want the little guy losing so early his faith but honestly, Mr. Wayne: that was pathetic! After all, Bruce was a gifted child. And he didn’t finish his thought when his little friend answered with his deeply melancholic and resigned voice._

_“I know that man was hired by you to dress up as Santa and the presents were bought by you…”_

_Martha closed her eyes and rose from her favorite spot: the armchair by the fireplace. She kneeled before her son and ruffled his hair._

_“You have to understand, Bruce…”_

_But Tony jumped._

_“Little guy, you’re too young to understand how the world works.”_

_Martha looked at him with widened eyes in outrage._

_Tony approached tilting his head in his smug expression though inside he felt bad because he had started all this._

_“Santa can’t be in thousand different places at the same time so he has his partners all over the world; Mr. and Ms. Wayne are among them. So at Christmas days he sends them one of his helpers to organize beautiful parties and give the presents to the kids he can’t manage to go himself.”_

_Bruce was looking at him frowning and pouting, his arms crossed; he fought between doubting and accepting._

_Tony cocked his eyebrows encouraged by the stares of Martha and Thomas._

_“C’me on, smartass…” he snorted. “You don’t know about these things – I’m sharing big secrets now: kids should believe that everything is done with magic” he twisted his mouth in contempt. “Kids…”_

_Bruce licked his lower lip._

_“You’re not kidding me?” he inquired shyly and Martha tilted her head to him._

_Tony arched an eyebrow._

_“I’m sure your dad can show you the contract because Santa is very firm when it concerns kids’ happiness.”_

_The older boy jerked his hands in the air._

_“I just put you among the big boys, little guy” he widened his eyes in emphasis “but if you insist on being a baby…No problem!” he tilted his head and his eyes pierced Bruce’s with their cleverness. “Your pal wouldn’t lie to you, you know that…”_

_Bruce’s pressed lips loosened in a big toothy smile and he ran to Tony who pretended to lose his balance and fall under Bruce’s weight._

_“I knew it! Thank you, Tony!”_

_Martha and Thomas were standing watching the two boys, their eyes filled with gratitude to Tony. And Tony sighed._

_“You’re a big boy after all and knowledge separates us from the babies, right?” he giggled with his younger friend. “But now get up from me – you grew bigger, huh? Well, I got a job for you!”_

_Bruce distanced a bit and kneeled beside Tony who crossed his legs. The younger boy looked at him with eager eyes._

_“Well?”_

_Tony pouted._

_“You must put the tree’s top.”_

_Bruce tilted his head._

_“But our tree has already its star…”_

_Tony smirked wickedly._

_“I’m talkin’ about somethin’ unique and fantastic” he stood and gestured with both index fingers to himself “I made for OUR tree!”_

_Now Bruce’s eyes bulged from excitement: Tony always made amazing things though he didn’t understand all of them. His heart pounded from expectance and he could feel his parents smiling at him relieved because he cheered up._

_Bruce watched anxiously as Tony revealed a box wrapped in red and gold paper and tossed it to him making the smaller boy jump to catch. The older boy quirked cockily his eyebrows._

_“Open it, littl’ guy: I can’t wait for our tree to be special!”_

_Despite the arrogance however Bruce could discern his friend’s anxiety for his reaction. And Bruce didn’t disappoint: he gaped at the content of the box._

_“Well?” Tony inquired scratching his nape uncomfortable._

_“Wow!”_

_Martha curious approached her son and Thomas watched amused as Bruce held cautiously the object and threw carelessly the box. It was a transparent angel made of material that little Bruce didn’t know and from Tony’s wicked smile probably not even his dad knew._

_The angel was very beautiful: five inches tall, with the features of a boy – a beautiful boy - he was naked except from a golden, glimmering strap that began from his shoulder and covered his hip. He held a golden sparkling drum that startled Bruce when all of a sudden began playing the melody of Bruce’s favorite Christmas song: the Little Drummer Boy. The angel was transparent, made of something that resembled crystal but emanated multicolored sparkles and his beautiful, delicate wings were silver._

_“Tony, is awesome” Bruce looked at his friend “but how are we gonna put it on the tree?”_

_It didn’t have anything to adjust to the top._

_Tony arched his eyebrows smugly._

_“Yeah… We definitely got a problem…” he twisted his mouth regarding Bruce’s small posture and then the huge – over 6’ tall - tree._

_Bruce blushed and Martha smiled because she knew that Tony was teasing her son._

_“I didn’t mean that…” the smaller boy pouted._

_Tony ran to him and took him from the armpits hoisting him to sit on his shoulders. He was laughing._

_“You’re right, littl’ guy: this isn’t a problem… Hey! You’re heavy! Good thing I’m a heavy weight lifter…” and walked towards the grand salon where the big tree stood majestic already decorated and illuminated with white little lights._

_Bruce giggled for the ride but held tightly the angel._

_“I still don’t understand, Tony…”_

_Tony turned his face to him and winked confidently. Suddenly, Bruce jerked feeling the angel twitching and his grip loosened._

_“No!” Bruce yelled scared that the angel will crash on the floor._

_But his eyes widened seeing the angel flapping his wings and floating returning to Bruce’s hand. The angel’s crystal form glimmering like a star._

_“Littl’ guy, remove the star and put the angel in its place” Tony said and pushed his friend to stand on his shoulder._

_Bruce didn’t know how the angel will stand there but took the star off the tree and brought the angel to the top of the tree._

_“Now leave it there” Tony urged him and Bruce’s parents watched with interest._

_Bruce shrugged and did as he was told._

_“Well?” Tony asked raising his stare to admire his creation._

_The angel floated on the top flapping his wings sending more blinding sparkles around – they sparkled brighter than the lights illuminating the tree branches._

_“It’s awesome!” Bruce exclaimed awed and Tony’s face lit with a big grin._

_“Nice…” the older boy answered. “Now dismount because…” he shook his head “you know…”_

_He lowered the boy till he touched his feet on the thick carpet. Bruce was looking his friend in his bright black eyes his admiration radiating._

_“How you did it?” the corner of his eyes was still on the glowing angel._

_Tony huffed and laughed._

_“I’ll tell you when you grow up, kitten” he shook his head and winked. “Because knowledge separates men” he gestured to himself “from boys!” he lowered his hand to Bruce’s height._

_Bruce frowned._

_“It’s yours, littl’ guy!” Tony laughed. “It’ll stop moving its wings as soon as you place it in its box.”_

_“Thank you, Tony, you’re the best!”_

_Tony nodded, grinning and arching his brows smugly._

_“I know, kiddo!” he ruffled Bruce’s locks._

_Light but clear footsteps entered the grand salon and a divine smell dazzled Bruce who sniffed._

_“And if I may, young master Anthony: the Pennyworth family Christmas cake separates boys from men since it’s only for boys” he gestured to Bruce “and not…men” he gestured to Tony “or for those who still feel like boys and girls” the butler arched a brow to Tony laying the silver tray with the delicious cake on the waist table. “So which side are you?”_

_Bruce had already run to the cake and Alfred smiling cut him a big slice which the boy hurried to savor, Tony watching jealous. The older boy approached and looked at Alfred who grinned._

_“I guess I’m a boy too…” he sighed and took eagerly the slice Alfred offered him._

_Bruce giggled satisfied by his big friend’s admission and Tony couldn’t get angry because the sight of Bruce’s mouth and chin smudged by chocolate was hilarious._

_Thomas hugged Martha’s shoulders and walked to the table. He looked at her laughing._

_“We’re a boy and a girl, right?”_

_“Always!” Martha exclaimed. “And I want the same make-up as Bruce’s…”_

Bruce tasted again that cake as if it was in his mouth: the same delicious, mesmerizing taste of sweet chocolate, nuts and butter caramel syrup mixed with whipped cream… He closed his eyes as his mouth salivated but his empty stomach growled and a painful pang reminded him that there was no food in there – not even the slice of bread Signora Bruna gave him for lunch every day.

She was very busy preparing the night party with the others – the store was already decorated in Christmas spirit which was ridiculous for a place like this but the customers wanted it: several Christmas trees were scattered in the main hall’s corners: golden, silver, flaming red, blue. Even the women and the men were dressed as Santa Claus…

“Get over with that damn floor, ya bastard!” Signora Bruna’s harsh voice made him jolt and shiver. “It’s evenin’ already! Ya lazy scum!”

He didn’t sigh because they got mad whenever they heard him “bitching” and continued mopping the floor. His focus back on the reality of his presence and not the fairytale of his past.

He had almost finished with the ‘’damn floor” and his good hand ached from the effort almost like his cripple one. He was on the second level and involuntarily the corner of his eyes traveled outside from the small window.

He didn’t feel like Christmas – actually, for him every day was the same or worse from the previous. And in here, Christmas didn’t reach.

Yet the snow that covered already the filthy streets and alleys of the Narrows made his heart skirt. The snowfall had stopped since last night: when he had taken the garbage out not even a snowflake fell.

His eyes widened: snow began falling again! He could see it on the store’s windows at the street opposite the cabaret – there was no chance even a snowflake would reach this window but Bruce remembered their form from the days he played at the Manor’s grounds: they looked like white stars so he was so happy when snow covered him because it felt like a blanket of stars…

His eyes caught a pedestrian holding tightly the hand of a small boy and slipping inside the normal store opposite this horrible place. It was a candy shop and Bruce tried to not take in the enticing desserts in its front.

Bruce knew he should but he couldn’t take his eyes from the small candy shop waiting like mesmerized. In a couple of minutes the same pedestrian with the kid and a woman left the store holding bags with candies; the boy was eating greedily a chocolate and Bruce’s lips fell downwards. His eyes blank and his hand paralyzed.

It seems that the mom was already in the shop buying goodies and waiting her husband and her kid in the store. They lived in the Narrows but they had each other and it was snowing…

Bruce pouted, his glassy eyes seeing his own parents holding each of his hands walking the streets that were covered with thick snow. His mother squatted in front of him to fix the scarf around his neck and tapped his red nose.

 _“Thomas, it seems that we got our Rudolf!” she laughed and Thomas did the same._  

_The man squatted too and touched the woolen horns of Bruce’s cap._

_“It’s the horns” he laughed and pinched softly his son’s cold red cheeks. “Hm…I think, since we chose the gifts for the kids in the orphanage, it’s time we went home to some of Alfred’s famous hot chocolate.”_

_He grabbed Bruce from the armpits and nestled him in his chest; Bruce wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and Martha gave him a kiss that warmed his cheek while his father did the same with his other cheek. Only for the two adults to unite their lips at the end smiling happy…_

His fingertip on his own accord touched the foggy window pane: a snowflake had landed there and it was like greeting him… A snowflake traveled there for his shake… He stared hypnotized the star-like shape.

And then the snowflake melted abruptly and he huffed from pain and shock feeling his crippled arm crashed in a huge hand and his legs stopped touching the floor. Bruce’s heart began beating frenzied because he knew from the smell, from the sense, from the movements. He was dragged away towards the basement.

“Please, sir” his voice hardly made it out of his mouth. “I must finish my work…”

His aching arm was pinned behind his back and was killing him; Chill’s other arm pressing his waist so his back was pinned on the man’s chest. Bruce was rasping and convulsing not to escape – all these years he knew better – but from fear.

“Oh, yeah? Ya should think that when ya futzed around; now ya’ll finish me first!” he cackled and pushed the boy face first on the basement’s threadbare wall.

Bruce’s heart and breath stopped as Chill’s brutal hands grabbed his waistband – the man’s breath already sounded as all the times he used him.

“Santa will give ya yar gift sooner” the Vulture sniggered lowering fast the boy’s rag-pants. “Yar a very bad boy” he whispered to his ear “but Santa still will give ya gifts!”

Chill cackled in Bruce’s ear and the boy closed his eyes gulping his sobs and hurried to chase away the image of his parents as the thug clenched his thighs and spread him. The building was vibrating from the jubilant Christmas melodies and Bruce’s heart was pierced from hot knives with every familiar note that mingled with echoes from his home; from a fairytale…

He remembered Cinderella: despite what Tony said it wasn’t a fairytale. He had replaced Cinderella… but he was a filthy Cinderella…

The Vulture was rubbing his naked genitals on Bruce’s buttocks, rasping wet breaths to the boy’s neck and Bruce clenched his teeth ready for the inevitable impaling pain, his heart filling his ears and skull.

“Chill!” someone shouted from upstairs and the Vulture grunted frustrated. “Where are you, you asshole? Boss is ready and waits you!”

Chill clenched more Bruce’s trembling buttocks unwilling to let go of his pray and the boy felt sweat drenching him from agony. This voice made him hope but the giant wouldn’t let him go. He held his breath and his desperate sob and waited…

Suddenly he was falling, Chill had released his buttocks and distanced. Bruce’s knees protested from the impact but he was breathing easier without daring to look up at his tormentor.

“I’m gonna give ya yar gift later, littl’ bastard – now, on yar feet an’ back to work!”

He kicked him hard on the naked buttock and Bruce moaned but hastily wore again his pants and stood on his shaking legs. He nodded shyly to Chill and recruited all his courage to run upstairs before the thug changed his mind.

 

It was past midnight and the songs were louder at this hour because staff and customers were drunk or high, singing and dancing half naked. It was _Dolcetto’s_ Christmas’ fest and although the big boss was absent since it was Friday and he had the meeting with his ‘lieutenants’, nobody really cared.

Bruce was hidden in his corner under the stairs that led from the basement to the store. He was rubbing his crippled arm that ached more than it had for months; the heavy cold, the moisture and the hard work had worsen its state. Thus, his stomach’s pangs from hunger were only a white noise…

He raised his head hearing the loud giggles and the dirty words that filled the upper floor; he didn’t want to know what they were doing upstairs but he could imagine… In the three years he was in there he had learnt everything whether he liked it or not.

“Where are ya, ya maggot?!”

Bruce jolted; Signora Bruna was looking for him and she was angry and when she was angry with him Falcone punished him.

He ran as fast as he could upstairs towards the kitchen from where the voice was heard. He found Signora Bruna smooching with Julliano squeezed in a corner; they smelled heavily of booze which made Bruce’s empty stomach twitch from nausea.

“What do ya want, littl’ shit?!” the man turned enraged at him and Bruce lowered his eyes. “Falcone didna fuck ya yet an’ yar jealous?” he roared.

But Signora Bruna pinched her boyfriend’s ass.

“I called him, _caro_. Take the garbage out an’ go to yar cell till I call ya to clean, _cretino_.”

Bruce keeping his eyes on the floor took the garbage sack that was almost as big as him and dragged it towards the back exit.

“Move, ya shit!” Julliano yelled and Bruce obeyed as much as he could afraid that they would change their mind and use him to their…whatever.

He touched the sack to the wall because he had only one working hand and he could hardly open the heavy door even without carrying anything.

The icy air that hit his face felt like the most beautiful thing on the world and he inhaled deeply the fresh air though the back alley was filthy. The snowfall had stopped again. Yet the snow that covered everything even there made this ugly alley look different.

He dragged the sack to the bin and sighed because there was nobody there waiting him. He shook his head: he didn’t expect Selina tonight because as much as the orphanage was struggling to survive surely they would have organized a Christmas party. And he wanted his friend to have a great time: Selina was an orphan too, after all, and she never met her parents. And she so much deserved some happiness.

He let the sack and pushed the heavy lid that thankfully had a mechanism to stay agape without needing a second hand to hold it. He clenched his teeth like every night and tossed the sack inside. Then he closed the bin catching his breath that strained from the effort.

He looked again behind the bin recalling Selina’s laughter, Hero’s purring and…- his aching stomach growled – the sandwich she brought him every night. He pressed his lips and turned his head towards the ugly building that waited to swallow him again. He inhaled deeply and a sob escaped along with his exhale: he didn’t mind the ferocious cold out there: he preferred it to the moisture, heavy smelling cold of the basement… He wanted to stay there but they will be pissed if he was late.

He persuaded his legs to walk, his eyes still turned to the bin, when something grabbed his upper arms and dragged him towards the wall. He was pressed face first to the cold, hard wall and the impact made him grunt but his terror was greater than the pain: nothing was worse than Falcone and Chill and for an instance he thought that the Vulture returned.

Yet why not wait to grab him while inside? His scared mind raced faster than his heart: a street punk attacked him as Chill had lied that night he…he used him at the alley. No street punk was worse than Chill and if this punk killed him even better: that would be a great Christmas present, really.

But then his attacker flipped him and his frail, bonny back crashed on the wall so the hot air from the man’s exhale hit his face with the familiar stench of alcohol and what he heard was coke. Bruce blinked to keep the contaminated breath from reaching his eyes and tried to avert his face but the man shook him violently and hit him on the wall.

Bruce didn’t remember him but he definitely wasn’t a street punk. He wore a fine suit though it was wrinkled and drenched with alcohol and sweat. His expensive tie was askew and his drunken eyes looked at him with a manic glow. The man rubbed his groin on Bruce’s small pelvis and the boy clenched his teeth.

“Please, sir…” he grunted “let me go…”

But the man tightened his grip on Bruce’s upper arms bruising and even his good arm cried in pain. He closed his eyes and the man rocked him violently.

“I know you work in _Dolcetto_ … and I want something special for Christmas Eve…”

He ran Bruce’s cheek with his tongue and his mouth’s heavy smell maximized from the lukewarm moisture made Bruce nauseated which began to evolve to a panic attack when the man pressed him on the wall with his body to have his hands free to slip under his pants. The man’s greasy hands goosed his buttocks.

Bruce’s eyes widened and the man who was around his forties stared smugly at him, resuming licking the boy’s face.

“You’re too soft, boy… I like the feeling… and for a filthy kid, you smell amazing…” he sniffed and Bruce’s breath became constricted.

His heart was beating crazily: he was daily used and touched yet every time was like a nightmare that repeated itself – you never get used to that… And he had hoped that a street punk would kill him as a Christmas present! Not only he wouldn’t get what he craved but also he was to be used by another one and Falcone and Chill would soon find out and punish him brutally. He shivered on the memories of his worst punishments.

Bruce decided to make a desperate attempt to persuade the man to stop: he was a customer after all not a thug… not that this made much difference…

“Sir…” he tried to divert his attention from sucking his neck without much success “please, sir…” the man groaned annoyed “please…I…I don’t do that job…”

The man lifted his head and looked lopsidedly at the boy, a smirk curving his half face.

“Please…” Bruce used all his despair and stared him with puppy eyes praying that the man would pity him – in the good days he never wanted people to pity him but now… he didn’t have any dignity left, did he?

But the man gritted his teeth and grabbed his buttocks spreading them shaking from haste. Bruce’s eyes protruded from terror and the man’s cold, angry brown eyes filled his vision.

“You belong to that brothel, little slut!” he shouted and Bruce squinted his eyes to avoid the spit. “And everything in there is for sale!”

“But yar not in ther’, motherfucker!” a hoarse voice came from behind the man and Bruce felt the grabbing hands trembling.

“Don’t…don’t shoot…” the man mumbled and Bruce felt a wild joy seeing his angry eyes filled with the panic the boy was feeling till now. “Ttttake my wwwalet…”

He let Bruce in his haste to riffle his clothes for his wallet without any result.

“Go to Hell, asshole!” the voice said and Bruce smiled seeing the man trembling believing that he was dead. “Bugger off!”

A kick in the ass was one motive more and the man turned to run towards the exit of the alley, staggering and falling on the slippery snow to hastily rise and drag his legs away which was difficult due to intoxication and terror.

Bruce was laughing able to enjoy the man’s terror now he was relieved. He stopped laughing and fixed his rag pants, his happy eyes on his savior.

“Thank you!” he said. “You’re my angel!”

“I lack the wings…” the voice was smug, not hoarse anymore but that of a young girl. “I can be whatever you want me to be, sweetie…” Selina pressed her lips and touched Bruce’s upper arms. “He roughed you up?”

Bruce shrugged.

“Not really…Your kick hurt him more…” he chuckled on the memory of the sound Selina’s foot did on the man’s ass. “Do you have a gun?” he narrowed his eyes; he looked for a gun but his friend’s hands were empty.

Selina knew Bruce’s terror and hatred for guns and didn’t blame him: he was threatened with guns by his kidnappers, his parents were killed with guns and he was wounded from bullets; his right arm cripple and in terrible pain constantly from then. She appreciated guns to protect herself – though she was still young to acquire one – but even if she had one would never use it in front of Bruce.

She rolled her eyes and tilted her head pointing at a thin iron pipe dropped on the snow. She cocked an eyebrow.

“The dork was so brave that pissed himself only with the feeling of metal!”

Bruce licked his lips amused and raised his eyes to her.

“I thought you wouldn’t come…”

Selina’s smugness evaporated on the fear and joy Bruce’s shy voice emanated.

“I wouldn’t let you alone that night, kiddo.”

A broad grin formed on Bruce’s face and his eyes searched the alley for their kitten.

“Where’s Hero? I don’t have much time…I must go inside…”

Selina held his upper arm; her eyes were solemn.

“We’ll go to him. And you won’t go back yet.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes and shook his head not understanding. He looked at the building.

“I must return, Selina; they’ll notice soon and…” he furrowed his brows.

But Selina was absolute.

“I looked inside, that’s why I was late. Everyone is too drunk or “busy” to notice. It’s a great chance, Bruce! You deserve to spend that night specially.”

Bruce’s eyes were stony as locked with hers.

“There’s nothing special about this night!” he stressed every word and Selina gulped.

“There is! Can’t you see? They’re all off from booze and Falcone with Chill are away! It’s your chance to run away!” Bruce’s eyes bulged with terror and denial because his attempt to escape would cause bad things to Selina and Alfred and Leslie and maybe Tony – Falcone was powerful. Selina realizing licked her lips. “For a bit!” she hastened to add.

Bruce looked at her and she could discern his heart’s craving to get away from his Hell and his dread for the consequences.

“What if Falcone returns? Or they suddenly remember me?”

“They won’t!” she huffed exasperated, grabbed his hand and pulled him. “Hero waits us! Do you want to disappoint him?”

He sighed and followed her, his heart trembling on the thought of someone noticing his absence. Selina halted abruptly and took off her coat only to reveal a second one worn under the first; she helped him wear it and instantly rare, magic warmth wrapped his tired body.

Then she grabbed again his hand and began running. She was leading him through forgotten alleys and corners that even crooks and thugs didn’t inhabit but there the snow was thicker and Bruce’s ragged, filthy sneakers were soaked causing his bare feet to freeze. Not to mention how they slipped: he hardly walked with them the few feet of the alley behind _Dolcetto_ where the snow wasn’t much, here was agony to stay erect especially with Selina dragging him.

The girl suddenly took in his rasps and frightened huffs that till now in her haste didn’t notice. She halted abruptly and Bruce collided with her; her eyes fell on his feet that hardly you could call them shoed. She sighed: her boots might be very old and weathered but they were still warm and didn’t slip. Also she could see that his feet were bare without socks but she knew that already, didn’t she? She saw them every night.

Bruce felt uncomfortable.

“It’s OK, Sel” he reassured her. “I’m used to walking barefoot in the store to not ruin the floor and in my cage the ground is colder and more slippery” he pressed his lips. “Can we go now?”

She nodded raising slightly her head and set off slower this time.

“With the money you took from Falcone thugs for Beth and what I stole I should have bought you some socks and decent shoes…” she said grim – she had thought to give him her boots but he would deny.

Bruce shrugged his good shoulder.

“They’d be wasted: what I was to do them? They’d have figured and punished me. But Beth and the baby will be warm and get some food…”

Selina grunted because it was unfair that Bruce couldn’t have anything. But she didn’t speak and continued.

They walked silently through darkness getting glimpses of the crammed streets of the Narrows which although filthy and uncared had some cheap Christmas decoration that stressed more the gap between that area and the rest of Gotham since Bruce still remembered the abundance of small bulbs and decorations that adorned the Mid and Uptown. Here the half working lightings were ridiculous as they just illuminated the misery of the homeless people that lay on the pavements, the open palms of the beggars and the despair of the prostitutes…

But the two kids continued their path to a tall abandoned building, Selina pulling Bruce inside where although no heating it was better than outside. They got into the lift and Selina pushed the top button that in Bruce’s surprise lit up and the lift moved.

“Even the lift still works!” Selina beamed. “Wicked, huh?”

They got out in the upper floor and climbed some stairs. Selina opened an old, rusty door and they stepped on the rooftop.

“I come here often” she let Bruce’s hand and watched him walk apprehensively and gazing around. “Nobody comes here ‘cause they believe that it’s ready to fall down – not even thugs come; do you believe that?”

Bruce was craning his head trying to see the sky but he couldn’t get much because although the building was tall it was towered by the newer buildings surrounding it and their powerful lights dimmed the patch of sky that was visible. When they reached the rooftop his heart had leapt because he hoped he would see the stars after three years that seemed three decades.

Selina saw her friend’s agonizing eyes searching for stars and then his shoulders slumping and pressed her lips.

“Too many lights…” she patted him.

Bruce turned to her and smiled.

“It’s beautiful…and the air is so fresh!” he inhaled deeply closing his eyes.

“Not so fresh…” Selina chuckled “but it’s cleaner than down there… Now come: we need some warmth.”

But Bruce didn’t want to be again in a closed space: here in the openness of the rooftop he felt free, his slavery left somewhere distant. But then he heard small paws crunching on the snow as small feet approached running and then the meow he so much loved.

He turned his head and simultaneously kneeled to pet Hero who halted abruptly before him and meowed once again. The void where his ruined eye once stood had some liquid from the cold but he seemed happy and poured as Bruce caressed him.

Selina laughed.

“He came to welcome you – come!” she took Hero in her hands because Bruce couldn’t and led the way.

It was a small shed made of wood probably because the residents made it after the initial construction and didn’t have money for more concrete or bricks. Selina opened the half derelict door that creaked protesting and let Bruce walk in first.

The boy’s eyes widened and he stared awed: it was so nice and warm! A small room with a thick brown-mahogany carpet half burned in one corner and with some holes but otherwise beautiful with its patterns visible. In the corner where a small bed – well, not a bed but a mattress covered in a red soft-looking blanket and a red fluffy pillow. Next to that stood a small table – a wooden box from those that contained bottles turned upside down. Selina had painted it red and on had placed a pot with a battered bush that had some small Christmas balls hanging and red silken bows on each branch.

On the other corner an old heater burned, a beautiful yellow red flame behind the smudged glass. The screeching sounds of the burning woods and their discreet smell made Bruce’s body pleasantly relax. Selina had filled the walls with cards showing landscapes from various places of the world which were lighted by a string of old white Christmas lights some of which weren’t ablaze, burnt from the long use.

“It’s so beautiful!” Bruce exclaimed and Selina smiled.

“It’s not much but it’s mine!” she pushed him gently inside and closed the door. “We don’t want the heat get out!”

She gestured to the fluffy pillows on the floor and both of them sat, Hero lay on his side leisurely looking at them with his one eye. Bruce ran his fingers to the kitten’s belly. Selina took the old coat off Bruce and then her own.

“Sel, thank you for bringing me here; you made it so beautiful…” she shook her head blushing.

“I wanted a place for me so every time I left the orphanage searched the abandoned buildings. And I chose this attic because it’s near _Dolcetto_ and I could come to you fast – then I began gathering things from the garbage and…” she cleared her throat “from my…’expeditions’…”

Bruce looked at her but he couldn’t berate her because he as well was taking money from the men who molested him to help Beth and Hero. He knew that Selina was taking things to help people too and make a living…

Selina read his thoughts.

“I never take things from poor…” she reassured him. “Well, I cleaned the things I found in the garbage, I fixed them as best as I could and…here it is. This shed had the old heater and a socket. It’s nice here…” she sighed “as if you’re alone in the world and nobody can harm you…”

Bruce nodded and moved his finger for Hero to play. Suddenly outside cold wind began blowing and though in there was warm and safe Bruce was reminded of what awaited him back.

“I thought” Selina mumbled “that a night like this you deserved to be away from there and share my refuge…”

Bruce smiled to his friend.

“You made me the best gift!” he lowered his eyes. “But I know this night has nothing special…” he shook his head “once Tony told me a lie to maintain my childish belief in Christmas and Santa. And I was stupid enough to believe him…”

Selina pet Hero.

“What he told you?”

“That Santa really exists and because he doesn’t manage to go to every kid he has partners all over the world who help him giving presents to the poor kids” he cocked his eyebrow and stared at his hand that had stopped caressing the kitten which tried to gain back his attention. “But now I know that there’s no Santa and he has no partners – all these is bullshit! Tony wanted to make me feel better but it was a lie…”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead that ached from the sudden change of temperature from the freezing cold outside to the warmth of the shed. Selina looked at him.

“I mean, you knew that from the start” Bruce continued. “Because you’ve been living in an orphanage all your life” he pouted his lips “and Santa doesn’t go to orphanages” he touched Selina’s cheek “or cabarets…” he closed his eyes. “And in those places he ought to go first, didn’t he?” his voice cracked but he immediately turned it into a cough fit.

Selina hugged and kissed him. Bruce looked at her and smiled.

“I wish I had met you before, Sel…” he whispered “and my parents had adopted you and you had become my sister and you had lived all the Christmas with us, with a family…Why some kids must lose their parents?”

Selina pouted and shook her head.

“But now we are together, Bruce…” her voice was throaty. “We’re not alone: we have each other, huh?” she pouted and touched her head to his. Bruce nodded but then frowned.

“We were visiting the orphanage often: how I never saw you?”

Selina cackled.

“I…I thought that you and your family were spoiled filthy rich guys who pretended that they cared for being praised…I was hiding to not see any of you…”

Bruce chuckled.

“I understand… Giving some donation or gifts once or twice doesn’t change anything…”

Selina shook her head.

“Don’t say that! Your family was helping much: the kids at the orphanage were happier than ever with your help; you truly did the difference for us – I just was too pig headed then but now I see the difference.”

So much discussion about his parents reopened the wounds and Bruce lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

“I wish Falcone had killed me from the start so my parents had lived and taken you as their daughter – I’m sure you would have made them really happy…”

Selina jerked; her eyes flashing angrily.

“No! No way! It’s a shame your parents were killed but don’t even mention again of you dying!” she yelled and Bruce stared at her while Hero stilled sensing the tension. “It’s Falcone’s fault and only his!” she gritted her teeth and her sparkling eyes emanated the hatred burning her young heart. “And Chill’s…”

Bruce couldn’t know why Selina had referred to Chill but nodded wishing to calm his friend.

“You know, Sel: I’m really happy to be here with you and Hero… I thought you wouldn’t come tonight and while I was happy you’ll be at the orphanage’s party, I missed both of you… I…” he gulped and hesitated to say the next “it’s hard to be alone…”

Selina remembered something and suddenly jumped on her feet, Bruce looked at her surprised and Hero stood too to follow her.

“Orphanage parties don’t last after hours, you know” she said. “Have you eaten anything?”

Bruce smiled.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does! A slice of bread?” she asked exasperated.

Bruce shrugged but his painfully empty stomach gave a loud protesting cry betraying him.

“They didn’t give you anything?!” she shouted. “Motherfuckers! Bastards!”

“They were too busy preparing the party” he smiled reassuringly. “I’m used to that: forget it.”

But Selina walked hastily to a small box beside the bed and returned followed by Hero who sniffed excited the same thing that punched Bruce’s nostrils. Meat…It seemed like ages since he last ate any…

He raised his eyes to Selina who sat right next to him crossing her legs opening the foil to reveal a big piece of roast stuffed turkey with rich sauce, rice and crunchy potatoes. Bruce stared at her: that piece of meat brought back memories.

“Tuck it!” Selina rolled her eyes. “I almost forgot it – stupid Selina!”

Bruce’s guts writhed in longing and his mouth filled with saliva but he shook his head.

“I won’t eat your meal…”

“It’s not mine…”

Bruce’s eyes widened.

“But the orphanage doesn’t have enough…”

Selina growled.

“You’re pig headed! You won’t take the food from anyone!” she shook her head. “It seems that a Santa-partner, as your friend Tony put it, came today at the orphanage…”

Bruce tilted his head.

“Sel, please…”

“Actually, he is an old mister who comes often and brings us goodies: cinnamon and vanilla biscuits and other stuff.”

Bruce’s heart stopped.

“He speaks a bit odd like…like those English kings in TV” Bruce’s heart gave a leap and he bit his lower lip. “He seems very sad even when he smiles to us and his baby blue eyes seem always ready to cry.”

 _Alfred_ …The kind butler’s face flashed in Bruce’s mind and the boy’s eyes became wet.

“He made our party: he brought roast turkeys enough to eat tonight and tomorrow, refreshments, desserts and gifts…Our Santa…” she took in Bruce’s tearful eyes. “What?”

Bruce pressed his lips and shook his head.

“Nothing…”

“Eat!” he urged him. “The nice mister brought so much food – actually, he always brings so much as if he hopes that someone would give some to somebody else – maybe he has lost a loved one and that’s why his eyes are so sad… maybe a kid…and he hopes that his food would reach him” she narrowed her eyes. “What do you think?”

Bruce began eating relishing the rare gift of Alfred’s food; his eyes closing on their own from pleasure, the delicious food warming his insides – or was the thought that this food was made by Alfred and had the man’s love. The taste in his mouth carried him to the past, to the warmth of the Manor’s table and of his parents’ smiles.

He saw Hero watching him longingly and smiled giving his friend pieces of meat which the kitten savored purring happy.

“Hero has eaten already” Selina protested “don’t give him all your food!”

But Bruce continued sharing his food with Hero: one bite for each and Selina rolled her eyes yet didn’t say anything. When he was almost done she stood and went to the same box bringing back another wrapped thing.

Bruce looked at her astonished.

“Christmas’ cake!” she exclaimed and opened it making Bruce’s eyes leak.

It was the Pennyworth family Christmas’ cake and Bruce’s heart was ripped: the scene under the huge Christmas tree of the grand salon hurting him.

“I can’t eat it…” he whispered huskily with regret. “They’ll smell the chocolate and the syrup and the nuts…”

Selina clenched her fist, gritting her teeth.

“Not tonight! They won’t, Bruce! Please…The kind man will sense that his cake reached someone who really needed it and will be happy even if his food couldn’t reach his loved one.”

Bruce sighed, thinking of Alfred’s beaming face when Tony and he gulped greedily his cake. He began eating and it was like this taste blended the present with the past in an ideal world where he had his parents, Tony, Selina and Hero together.

He had eaten the entire piece and then a knot constricted his throat and he began sobbing like a baby and he felt so ashamed! Selina gave him the best Christmas Eve and he was repaying her with crying.

But Selina hugged him and caressed his hair.

“You’re not alone, Bruce…I’ll be always here…I’ll never abandon you…”

Hero squeezed between them meowing as if stating the same and Bruce laughed between his sobs.

“I’m sorry, Sel…This is the best Christmas…and I… Sorry…I’m so happy I have you and Hero…I love you so much…”

“I love you too, Bruce…”

Hero meowed.

“I love you too, Hero…” Bruce chuckled and caressed the kitten’s head.

And then the lights in the wall went out leaving only the fire in the heater lighting the room…and something else which made Bruce’s eyes goggle at the small foggy stained glass window.

Selina looked around.

“A blackout?” she asked.

But Bruce had jolt on his feet and stormed outside the door enthralled. Selina confused from his sudden change followed him, Hero doing the same.

Bruce was standing at the edge of the rooftop gazing at the visible patch of sky, the cold wind shaking his ragged clothes and covering him with snowflakes which felt like a blanket of white stars. Selina understood.

The blackout had drenched the entire city in darkness and the polluted sky lay ablaze over them, illuminated by countless little stars sparkling playfully as if smiling to them. Selina hadn’t seen the sky like this; it looked bluer and as if celebrating in the silence that had suddenly fallen to the big city.

Selina’s feet crunched over the fresh snow and she stood beside Bruce slipping her hand in his.

“It’s amazing!” she whispered awed.

“It reminds me of the sky over our greenhouse…” he turned to his friend. “We went there with mom and stayed at nights watching the winter sky muffled in blankets listening to the fire in the heater and she was telling me stories about how each star was a loved one we had lost and was watching us smiling, whispering that is still there, always with us, loving us…” his voice trembled. “Sel, you never wanted to learn about your parents?”

She shrugged and pouted.

“Nah…They abandoned me…They didn’t want me…so I don’t care about them…”

Bruce’s heart clenched for her realizing how hurt she must be, thinking that her parents didn’t care for her. Perhaps, this was even worse than losing your parents to death… Or maybe he’d have preferred it if his parents had left him in an orphanage if that meant that they would have been still alive…Or then he would have been angry at them…He couldn’t say; the sure thing was that he could feel Selina’s sadness burning his throat.

“Maybe they didn’t abandon you” he whispered. “Maybe they were forced to be separated for you…”

Selina smiled.

“I can’t imagine anyone who would want to be away from you, Sel…”

She shook her head.

“Maybe…” she answered.

And then Bruce saw something in the sky and pointed with his index.

“Look!”

Selina squinted.

“The stars there form an angel! An angel exactly like the one Tony had given me…”

Selina gaped.

“Yes! It’s like an angel…”

Tony…

“So your Tony made angels” Selina smirked. “He sounds like a nerd: I bet he never did…” Bruce saw her retreating away from him “THAT!” she threw a snowball at him giggling.

Bruce ran behind a chimney for cover and gathered snow with his good hand throwing the ball to Selina finding her chest. He laughed with her cry of mock outrage and dived to avoid her next ball. He gathered more snow on the cement and formed a ball; he came out of his hideout and sent it at Selina simultaneously as Selina’s ball hit him on the thigh.

Hero listening to their happy laughter ran from one to another meowing.

At these moments only children’s laughs shattered Gotham’s grim silence.

They were playing and the world had stopped around them letting them be alone, peaceful, careless…Happy.

Bruce made to throw another ball but a ball from Selina hit him in the belly and he grunted and fell to the ground that was covered with thick snow.

“Bruce!” she screamed and ran to him, the kitten following.

But upon reaching him, Bruce threw a big snowball that unbalanced her and made her slump next to him. They laughed together.

“We also made snow angels…” Bruce said and began moving his legs and hand realizing that his angel will be a crippled angel…

Selina did the same but she move only one hand making her angel cripple too.

They stopped and gaped at the sky.

“This sky is a miracle…” Selina whispered. “And the blackout that made it possible…”

Bruce felt Hero’s small tongue licking his cheek.

“You and Hero are the miracle…” he gulped. “And I’m lucky to have you…”

But then the city became all of a sudden bright with artificial light and the stars became dim as if their loved ones had to leave.

And Bruce sat on the snow and stood, Selina helping him with her beautiful eyes sad because she understood.

“I must go, Sel…”

She shook her head desperate.

“Even if they were drunk, anytime soon will search for me and if they don’t find me…” he sighed. “Thank you…It was great!” he grinned.

“You’re soaked…”

“It doesn’t matter; I’ll say that I fell on the alley…Not that anyone will notice or care…”

She nodded.

“Stay here: don’t go back there…”

Bruce pressed his lips.

“I can’t, Sel, though I want it so much. But if they don’t find me, they will search everywhere and won’t stop till they find me and punish those who helped me…”

Selina shook her head exasperated.

“We’ll leave! I have some savings…”

Bruce rubbed her upper arm and smiled.

“I don’t want you to be hurt” she was ready to protest “and even if you and me are safe, they will harm some people I love…first of all…” he licked his cracked lip “the kind man…the orphanage’s Santa…”

Selina frowned.

“You know him?”

“He is my family’s butler, Alfred. He loves all of us so much that he stayed here, suffering Falcone’s insults to be close to me… _Close…_ ” he sighed. “As close as he is permitted…”

Selina’s eyes flashed.

“So his eyes are so sad because Falcone keeps you jailed and he can’t be with you…” she huffed. “When was the last time you saw him?”

Bruce lowered his eyes and swallowed hard, Hero rubbing to his leg.

“Ages ago… He had come secretly to the store and found me…” his lips moved but he didn’t know how to utter that Alfred had found him humming his mom’s lullaby to console himself because he was in terrible pain and he was bleeding from his…poor Alfred had seen him in a state of delirium that day.

He raised a bit his eyes and met Selina’s eyes that prompted him to continue; maybe it was his idea but he sensed that his friend figured his state when Alfred had found him.

“I was distraught and Alfred hugged me and perhaps he meant to take me with him but…but Chill came and Alfred although was afraid of what they would do to me, punched him in the eye and from then Chill has a scar crossing his eye.”

Selina smirked satisfied.

“And Alfred was beating him and was incredible – I mean, Alfred could beat that giant! But then Falcone was there and he grabbed me and pressed his gun to my cheek and threatened Alfred and Alfred was forced to leave…” his head unconsciously slumped to his shoulder. “And from then I haven’t seen him again…only once a year Falcone lets me speak to him through phone…” his lips were pouted and the kitten at his feet was looking him sad.

Selina shook her head and grabbed her waist.

“Do you want me to speak to him? Tell him that I see you every night and that you’re…” she hesitated because it wasn’t entirely true “OK?”

But Bruce shook his head in denial though he knew that Alfred would be very happy to hear that he had a good friend. Selina frowned.

“It will complicate things, Sel…” he felt so tired “for you and him… I know that Falcone watches him all the time and if they see you talking to him he’ll suspect and watch you as well…Or lock me up…Or harm you…”

Selina wasn’t afraid neither believed that all this disaster would come if she spoke to the man but her friend was panicked and trembled and she wanted to sooth him. So she nodded.

“I won’t speak to him then…unless you change your mind and ask me to. But let’s go inside…You’re freezing.”

Bruce straightened his posture.

“No, I must leave, Sel…It was like a fairytale but it must end now…”

Her eyes were tearful.

“No! You can’t go back there! It’s Christmas and they have already beaten you and…”

Bruce smiled to her and patted her back.

“They haven’t, Sel…” he chuckled. “Maybe a small miracle happened and I wasn’t beaten or…” he inhaled “ _that_ … all day. Perhaps I’m lucky and I’m spared the rest of the night…”

But he could see that she wasn’t comforted.

“I can’t be in the warmth while you will be in the cold…”

Bruce touched her cheek that was warm from her tears.

“My mom was telling me that when you love someone your love can warm him even in the coldest places…” he pressed his lips “don’t worry about me: I’ll be very warm tonight…” he kissed her cheek and a sob left her dry throat.

The road back was tiresome and torturous because it led back to the Hell, to separation…The snow was more slippery and the feet lumbered; Selina’s lowered head made Bruce’s heart hurt.

He was holding Hero one armed and the kitten was so quiet that this time he managed to not drop him as the other times that made him stop trying. And was so warm although the old, ragged coat Selina had given him was soaked and covered with a thick layer of snow that now didn’t feel like a blanket made of white stars.

“I look like a snowman!” he chuckled when they entered the alley behind _Dolcetto_.

But Selina’s face was grim, sullen, her eyes heavy. Even Hero had nestled his head in his chest and stopped purring. He gave her the kitten and hugged her searching her eyes.

“I’m happy, Selina: you made that happen so you should be happy too! Don’t think where I’m going but where I was: how great it was… Please, smile for me…” he smiled to prompt her but she just sniffed gulping a sob. “Give me the light and warmth of your love…”

The girl smiled though her eyes sent waterfalls to her cheeks and Bruce kissed her.

“Tomorrow night, behind our bin, huh?” he asked cheerfully and when Selina nodded he handed her the coat. “Thank you for everything, it was the greatest gift…”

Hero meowed and Bruce caressed his head before turning towards the building that loomed like a curse.

“Goodnight!” he mouthed beaming to them and waited to see Selina heading towards the alley’s exit to open the door.

Even before entering the building the deafening sound of the party told him that nobody noticed his absence. So he immediately headed to the basement and his cage, happy that the night Selina offered him was to end peacefully.

His world shattered once again when his waist was crushed under an iron arm that shoved him face first to the wall, a gigantic body pinning him. Bruce closed his eyes: the stench of alcohol and tobacco was so suffocating that he should have smelled it earlier. But he was so happy with his supposed luck that wasn’t cautious. And now Chill was chewing his ear, stinky saliva leaking to his cheek.

Cold hands pushed his pants and underwear down to his ankles and Bruce was happy – actually, happy! – that the man was so drunk that didn’t take in how soaked his clothes were. And how was he to notice? His hot, wet breath was burning Bruce’s neck and his fingers were clenching his buttocks spreading him already. Bruce could feel the man’s enormous length already rock hard leaking to his buttocks as Chill rubbed his flesh on him.

“Santa is finally her’ to fetch yar presen’…”

Bruce’s heartbeat drummed in his ears and pained his rib case; he was shaking from dread anticipating the pain as foreign flesh poked at his opening. His breath came out like sobs.

“Mer’ Xmas, Prince…” the Vulture sniggered and his unshaven chin grazed Bruce’s cheek as Chill was licking and sucking his face. “Say it, Prince!”

Chill’s length was teasing aggressively Bruce’s entrance and the boy couldn’t control his sobs or his tears, the moments he enjoyed with Selina and Hero stabbing his heart.

“Say it, ya slut!” Chill’s body pressed him more and Bruce felt his frail bones ready to pulverize; his crippled hand squeezed sent fire to crack his skull.

“Me…Merry Christmas…” he huffed and clenched his teeth sensing Chill’s move to thrust his length in him.

He moaned struggling to make his head sink to the firm wall; his throat was burning with a knot constricting his breath. He was such a bad boy, such a rotten soul that he didn’t deserve to be spared even this night…How it can be different since he caused his parents’ horrible deaths? He so much deserved to be punished like this…

And then it slowly dawned on him and he opened his eyes. The excruciating pain he was expecting didn’t come and the crushing pressure on his body was gone as the foul breath in his ear but Bruce didn’t dare to move.

Until he heard a thud and fell to the floor without Chill’s body supporting him. Seconds later the thug’s snoring towered the fuss from the party upstairs and Bruce cuddled on the floor raised his eyes and saw the giant naked below the waist knocked out from the intoxication. However he didn’t decide to move because he was afraid that as soon as he made a move the Vulture would open his eyes and grab his foot.

His eyes bulged, hearing hasty heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and approaching. Bruce hugged himself with his one arm and curled up to become as small as he could to not be noticed: they would blame him for Chill’s state and Falcone would punish him. He cowered to the niche of the wall and watched from his half - closed eyes.

The thug whom Bruce had seen many times, the first when he was dragged to that warehouse after his abduction, squatted beside Chill and patted him hard.

“Chill! Chill!” he shouted. “ _Teefla 1…_” he mumbled something that Bruce didn’t understand and then looked at the trembling, curled up boy; his eyes taking in the boy’s half naked body with aversion.

Bruce thought that heard him sighed but didn’t have time to elaborate when the thug’s eyes met with his. He wanted to but he couldn’t close his eyes.

“Dress up and go to your room, kid…” the thug told him with a voice that Bruce found kind. “He won’t remember anything tomorrow.”

Bruce tried to cover his nakedness clumsily since his haste made his one hand’s effort more difficult. But the man wasn’t looking at him: he pulled up Chill’s pants and shoved him upwards bringing the giant’s arm around his neck.

The boy stood shyly only after they began climbing the stairs. He took a deep breath not believing his luck and ran to his “room”. It was pitch black and the cold in there made him feel that his clothes had frozen on him. So he stripped, the cold without his rags piercing his bones but still better than with his clothes on.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark he looked at the ceiling for the bats but they were gone for hunting – he was alone and that exhausted his tired body. He lay at the base of the big stalactite that reached the ground and gathered his knees to his chest cuddling them with his arm. He exhaled hot air from his lungs struggling to warm his naked body but the cold was fierce and he closed his eyes discouraged.

He wished he had a blanket even not the fluffy, thick blanket he had on his bed at the Manor. But he knew he couldn’t hope… So he closed his eyes and replayed the moments he spent with his friends at Selina’s warm shed and a smile caressed his face as Selina’s small, humble Christmas bush gained an angel at its top: the dazzling, transparent angel with the silver wings Tony had given him playing again the _Little Drummer Boy_ …

And then his body was covered with something fluffy and warm like a blanket…but Bruce knew that there wasn’t any blanket. He opened carefully his eyes and saw that his body from the shoulders till the feet was covered with a blank “blanket” that shook. He tried to control his agitated breath to not scare his “blanket”: he didn’t know how many they were but the bats of his cage had returned and now lay upon him covering every inch of his body with their furry small bodies because bats’ body has fur… And Bruce had to admit that it was so soft and warm that his body relaxed and his eyelids became too heavy for him to keep open.

Actually, it was so much better with his eyes closed and the sweet exhaustion numbing his mind to sleep, the warmth all over him lulling him like a big hug, his father’s hug. Bringing him back to the Manor’s grand salon that was dark except for the huge trees’ lighting bulbs and Tony’s beautiful angel hovering on the top sending multicolored sparkles all over. They had closed any other light to admire the tree.

And he was goggling around, his eyes beaming from the beauty he was seeing: his parents there, Alfred and Leslie there, Tony there, teasing him for his agape mouth, and Selina…His mom hugging the little girl’s shoulders.

Hero meowed to him from his feet and Tony patted him laughing with his lighthearted way.

“I bet you think this is a dream, huh? Merry Christmas, little guy!”


End file.
